Country Club Ch. 01

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I know this is short. It's really more of an intro to a longer story I have in mind. I figured maybe posting it now would give me incentive to hurry up and finish it. Comments and ratings greatly appreciated.

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I was idly flipping through an old copy of Maxim, not really registering the words on the page. I had been kind of depressed for a while. Even though I really liked working at Bramble Ridge Country Club, after working there through college I had really been looking forward to getting a "real job". But the economy tanked and no one was interested in hiring a brand new graduate from a crappy state university.

Things were alright really. Working for the country club would never make me rich but the money was okay. Unlike a lot of my friends I had a job. And while in college I had a tuition scholarship so all I'd had to pay for was books, food and rent, which meant I didn't have to worry about student loans. So, all in all, things were okay. Still, I was in a deep funk over being a college grad working the desk at a spa in a country club. Boo-hoo, poor me, right?

My one person pity party was interrupted when Larry speed walked past the counter, muttering, "Dude. Heads up. Wicked witch."

"Shit!"

I stuffed the magazine into a drawer and gritted my teeth in anticipation, or dread. "The wicked witch" is Amy Holcomb. She used to work here as a massage therapist before one of the members snapped her up as a trophy wife during my sophomore year. She was beautiful, but that didn't make up for the fact that she had always been my bitchiest coworker, and was now hell on wheels as a member. Feeling as if I was awaiting my doom, I reflected on how strange it was that the old money New England aristocracy that made up the bulk of the membership were, by and large, pretty decent to the staff, and that the worst people to deal with were the trailer trash trophy wives like Amy.

I was startled out of my reverie by five foot three of curvy, blonde evil clearing her throat and tapping her overpriced manicure on the green marble counter top in front of me. I managed a polite smile that didn't touch my eyes.

"Hello Amy, what can I do for you today?" I found myself using every ounce of willpower at my disposal to look away from her perfect, bra-less, handful sized breasts, topped by erect nipples that were clearly visible poking through her pink golf shirt.

"Well first, David," she sneered my name making it sound like an insult, "it's Mrs. Holcomb to you. Second, you can get your eyes off my tits, ya fuckin' perv. And third, you can get put some extra towels into number three. And if I catch you in there again, I'll report you for harassing me and get your ass fired. I'll be right back, so get to it." With that she stormed off. Larry stuck his head out from behind the divider between the front desk and the staff area and hummed a snippet of the Wicked Witch's theme from the Wizard of Oz. I laughed in spite of my foul mood, grabbed a stack of towels and headed for shower three.

The spa had a series of private shower rooms which put most studio apartments to shame. Each of them had a shower big enough for an orgy (well, a small orgy anyway), a Jacuzzi tub, a massage table, an assortment of exotic plumbing fixtures. Everything was made of marble, gold or crystal. As I'd overheard one of the members put it once, the club's showers were "as simple and understated as a pimp on Easter."

A few weeks ago I had been cleaning up number three when Amy, fresh from the sauna and wearing nothing but a towel and a sour expression, walked in on me. I had hung a sign on the door handle that said the room was being cleaned, and she could have gone into any of the others. Instead she walked into mine, kicked me out, and then raised a stink with my boss that I was "lurking around the showers trying to get an eyeful". My boss accepted my explanation of what had really happened. But a complaint from a member goes in your file no matter what. I knew that he might not be able to save my job if she made another complaint. She knew the same thing, and used that fact to keep me jumping.

I set out the towels on the cushioned changing bench and turned to leave when I heard Amy's fake laughter outside the door. Shit. I don't know why I didn't just leave through the door. On reflection later I realized that she never would have reported me for "lurking" again. She's the type who would prefer to hold it over my head and make me dance. But in the moment I panicked, and ducked into a closet full of plush bathrobes.

I closed the door on the closet just as Amy opened the door to the shower room. Fuck. I was a dead man. If she found me in the fucking closet there would be no way I could keep my job. Hell, there was probably no way I could stay out of jail. She stood in the doorway talking to someone in hushed tones. I couldn't make out anything she was saying but I recognized the voice of the person she was speaking to as male. Her husband never came to the club in the daytime during the week. Part of me wondered if she was fooling around. Most of me just hoped neither of them wanted a bathrobe.

She entered the room alone, and I dismissed my suspicions, returning instead to praying she didn't open the closet. I could just barely make out her outline through the louvered slats on the closet door. She was stripping over by the changing bench, carefully folding her clothes and setting them on the bench. She walked over to the sink and started rubbing her naked body with one of the exotic unguents we set out for our wealthy clientele. I could smell the spicy lightly floral scent of the oil she was rubbing all over her naked body. Like I said in the closet I could just barely make out her outline. But just knowing she was naked, rubbing some exotic-flower scented oil into her tits and, judging from her current posture, her pussy, was making me hard.

Amy stopped rubbing herself (and tormenting me) at a light tapping on the door. She turned and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around her body, and opened the door. She looked up and down the hall outside, and ushered someone inside, whispering and giggling. "Ah, here it comes," I thought to myself. Well now at the very least if they caught me I could maybe protect myself by offering to protect their secret. I couldn't see the guy's face, but his silhouette made him look tall and well built. Her husband was short and starting to go round and saggy about the middle. He was also an incredibly wealthy fifty-three year old workaholic with no kids. I doubt he'd be thrilled to learn his expensive arm candy was stepping out on him.

I leaned back against the wall, waiting for them to finish what they were here for, and hoping they didn't find me. I had a scare when Amy walked right toward the closet, but she went into the one next to mine and pulled out a folding massage table. After setting it up in the middle of the room she helped her friend strip and pushed him face-down onto the table. From what I could see she was giving him an incredible massage, rubbing him with her breasts and her pussy more than her hands. I found myself getting aroused again. I looked down and closed my eyes, pinching and rubbing the bridge of my nose. I was also getting a headache. I needed to get the fuck out of there.

Eventually she jumped off, flipped him over onto his back and climbed right back on. She continued the massage which, hot as it was before, seemed to be heating up. I wished I could see but because of the angle of the slats in the door all I could see clearly was the floor about four feet in front of the closet. Squinting and standing on tip toe to try and see more than just a silhouette, accompanied by their chorus of masculine moans of pleasure and feminine oohs and aahs, I had a stroke of genius. Well, I mean, genius... I don't know, I thought it was a good idea.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. It had a built in camera that could shoot video but I never used it. It was just a crappy free flip phone that came with my plan. Seems like all phones have cameras now. I flipped it open, went to the menu and made sure all the sounds were off. Then I held the phone up to the highest gap in the louvered door, angled it down, and activated the video recorder. After a few seconds I pulled it down and took a look. I was rewarded with a six second video of Amy Holcomb giving a spirited blowjob to Charlie, the club's golf pro. In-fucking-credible. The quality wasn't great but it looked like both their faces looked pretty clear to me.

I put the phone back up and started recording again. I couldn't see the screen on the phone at the angle I had to hold it to shoot them but that didn't stop me from squinting through the closet door to try and see what was going on. I started to feel like the pervert she'd accused me of being. After a few more minutes of squinting at the shadow puppet make out session, I decided I could live with that and started rubbing myself through my uniform pants. I wasn't about to whip it out and rub one out on a bathrobe, but I'm only human. I just tried to adjust myself, relieve some of the tension. That's my story anyway, and I'm sticking to it.

I checked the phone a few times to make sure I hadn't filled up the phone's memory and that it was still recording. Other than that I continued watching the show, and hoped for a way to escape. Amy and Charlie went through a series of positions that put some pornos to shame. Since I mostly worked the spa and the occasional catered affair at the club, I never had much occasion to work with Charlie. I had a vague impression of him as kind of a prick. But I'll say this for him, he had staying power. I don't know how long they were at it but it seemed like quite a while. Probably seemed like longer than it was since all I could think about was getting the hell out of there.

Eventually, with Amy riding away in reverse cowgirl (who said you couldn't learn anything from porn?), her moaning became more intense, until she arched back and opened her mouth in a silent scream, her whole body shaking. From my vantage point, squinting through the closet, it looked a bit like a seizure, to be honest. But it was still damned hot. Right after she came Charlie joined her, moaning her name over and over. Afterward he lay there panting with his hands on her hips and she sat on his crotch, rocking her pelvis every few seconds, rubbing his thighs and giggling.

After catching her breath she climbed down and took his hand, pulling him down off the massage table. They walked hand in hand toward the back of the room, out of my line of sight. I closed my phone and listened, trying to figure out what was going on. I heard Amy speaking in subdued tones, couldn't make out what she was saying, and they were making noises, loud wet kisses I'm guessing.

Then I heard the shower come on. The large shower stalls in the rooms were on the same wall as the closets so I figured this was my best chance to escape. As long as they were both in the shower and occupied with each other, they shouldn't be able to see me. I carefully, slowly slipped out of the closet, closing it behind me as slowly as I could. Then I shimmied along the wall to the door, and made good my escape.

Out in the hall my heart was pounding. I couldn't believe I got out of there without getting caught. As I walked back to the front desk the silliness of the whole thing struck me and I couldn't help laughing out loud, the first real good laugh I'd had in a long time.

Larry shot me a look as I walked back to the desk. "Where the fuck you been, Dave? You escape that bitch unscathed?"

I just grinned and tossed him my phone.

Several minutes later Larry was watching the video for the third time in a row.

"Holy shit, dude! What are you gonna do now, put it online? Give it to her husband? You hate that bitch, you should stick it to her good."

"Ah, I don't know, man. I'd love to get some payback but that just doesn't seem right."

"But showing it to me is fine, right? Fuck, hiding out in the closet and wanking off on her is cool. Yeah, I see where you're coming from," Larry sneered.

"It... I never wanked, I... it wasn't like that. It's not like I planned this! You heard what she said to me. She put me in an impossible situation. She told me to stock up three, and threatened to report me to Tom if I was in there when she got back. She had, like, her hand ON the door. I just panicked and ducked in the robe closet."

Larry just smirked and watched the video again.

"Well aren't you the lucky one."

Charlie came walking down the hall from the showers and nodded at us as he walked by, "Gents."

"Hey, Charlie," we replied in unison. I bit my lips together in an effort to keep a straight face and Larry snorted. Charlie just raised an eyebrow and continued walking out of the spa.

A few minutes later Amy came walking down the hall. Much as I didn't like her, I couldn't help but be mesmerized by the sexy sway of her hips as she strode down the marble hall as if she owned the place. She was dressed in a short red cocktail dress and strappy red heels that probably cost more than I made in a year. She was carrying a pink duffel bag where, presumably, she carried the golf clothes she'd been wearing when she came into the spa.

"Don't you two assholes have some work to do?" she cracked.

"Dave's got something he wants you to see, Amy." Larry grinned and shoved the phone into my hands before he ducked behind the divider that shielded the employee area from the eyes of the club members.

"Fucking asshole," I muttered under my breath through gritted teeth.

"Chickenshit!" he whispered back from his hiding place.

Amy stood in front of me at the counter, glaring.

"What the fuck is going on?"

"Ah, nothing, you remember how Larry is from when you worked here, right?"

Maybe I subconsciously meant to piss her off. She hated when anyone mentioned that she used to work here. Her eyes lit up in anger and she snatched the phone out of my hand.

"Hey, wait, no!"

I thought she had looked pissed off a minute ago but that was nothing. Her face turned as red as the dress she was wearing as she watched the video playing on my phone.

"You... son... of a bitch!" She barely squeezed the words out before lunging at me over the counter. I jumped back just missed being clawed on the face by her long red nails. She bounced back off the counter and looked back at the phone.

"I don't know what the fuck you think you're doing David, but you are DONE here!"

She bent my flip phone backwards across the hinge and snapped it in two, then shoved it into her duffel bag.

"You can kiss this shitty job goodbye you fucking, lurking, perv! What were you gonna do, huh? Blackmail me? Show this to my husband? Well kiss that plan goodbye you fucking moron! You fucking fucked up by letting me get my hands on it. Thank your shit head friend for that! You are fucking done! You hear me? DONE!"

She was shaking like a leaf in a strong wind as she stormed off. One of the older members poked his head out of one of the shower rooms and gave me a quizzical look. I made a confused expression and shrugged at him, gave him the "Who knows?" face. He shrugged back and ducked back into his room.

Larry came out from behind the divider and stood next to me as I watched Amy walk away.

"Dude. Tell me you already sent that video to your email."

"Yup."

"Rethinking what I said about getting some payback?"

"Oh, yeah."